


All That is Gold Does Not Glitter

by Spicymango7



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Betrayal, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Hurt, Kíli possessed, Tauriel pregnent?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicymango7/pseuds/Spicymango7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>60 years ago, when the Battle of the Five armies took place, Kíli was taken by the dark lord. Thanks to Saruman, everyone believed him to be dead. But then word reaches Erebor of Saruman's betrayal. If he deceived and lied to them now, who's to say he hasn't lied before.<br/>Determined to find out the truth of what became of their kin, Thorin, and what remains of his company ride out to Minas Tirith, and joins the Men of the West in the final battle. But never could they have guessed what the evil of Sauron managed to accomplish. Are they too late to save their kin? Or does hope still remain?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "With every victory this evil will grow"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiran.A (Nín Tithen Caun)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kiran.A+%28N%C3%ADn+Tithen+Caun%29).



> I don't own The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, any of the characters, or anything other than the plot (I guess). Although I wish I did, that would be the coolest thing ever!  
> This is my first ever fanfiction, and maybe it reveals what a grim, horrible person I am, but please tell me what you think, I'd love to know.  
> I would just like to say, that this story is dedicated to my younger brother. He has never doubted my ability to write, he is constantly encouraging me, and giving me new hope, and inspiration. I don't know where I would be without him, but it's fair to say it would be no where good. He has faith in me even when it seems no one else does, and provides me with a reason to write. So Kiran, thank you very much, I couldn't have written this story without you.  
> That was a bit cheesy wasn't it? Oh well, it's the truth. Now on with the story!

Against all odds, they were winning the battle. It had not been without heavy loss of course, but they may yet survive.  
Thorin swung his blade and beheaded the final orc. He then called to Fíli, who was leaning heavily against the wall of the watch tower.  
“Any sign of him” he asked his young heir.  
“Not as far as I could see’ Fíli replied, panting for breath ‘I told Kíli to search the lower levels and I looked over the top, but as far as I could see it was abandoned”  
“That piece of filth’ Thorin muttered ‘I will have his head”  
He turned round calling Dwalin and Bilbo to him “We are wasting our time here, I say we head down and re-join the battle. There is little to gain by remaining up here”  
Dwalin gave a stiff nod, however Fíli looked unsure.  
“But uncle, what of Kíli?”  
“What of him.” Said Thorin bluntly. He still felt betrayed by his youngest nephew, for choosing the life of a damn she-elf over that of his kin. Of all the people Kíli might chose to befriend, an accursed elf!  
“He should have returned to us by now” Fíli persisted.  
Thorin merely shrugged, and said with a grimace that his brother had likely run back down to the battle. In aid of an elf or two, he muttered as an afterthought.  
Fíli said nothing. He knew Thorin would never approve of Kíli’s ‘friendship’ with an elf- if that’s what it was. He just hoped that this relationship wasn’t going anywhere.

So the four of them hurried back down Ravenhill. The masses of orcs had been drastically cut back, although a significant number still remained.  
But there was still Azog. Thorin ground his teeth together at the mere thought of him. When Azog was slain, then and only then would Thorin count this as a victory.  
Soon they were once again surrounded by the chaos of battle. The bodies of Men, Elves and Dwarves alike, lay bloody and broken on the ground, along with orc and warg corpses. Thorin did not register any of these things. He could not let emotion take a hold of him as again and again he swung his blade. The deafening noise of battle was all around him, on top of it he could just make out the piercing cry of an eagle come swooping in.  
Great warrior though he was, Thorin was starting to feel the effects of fatigue weighing on his body. He grappled with a large orc for a few seconds, before plunging his sword into the orc’s chest. He leant against his sword for support whilst trying to regain his breath. The ground beneath his feet was a sea of limbs, red and black blood alike mingling. The scent of death was in the air. Thorin’s eyes watered as he registered a force much greater than he.

Then slowly, the noises of battle begun to fade. Thorin thought perhaps victory was at last, theirs! He looked wildly around, trying to work out why the battle was ceasing.  
Heads were turned in the direction of Ravenhill. Then friends and foes alike shrunk away in fear as a black mass appeared, shadows swirling around it. Thorin felt himself overwhelmed with an evil presence far greater than anything he had ever felt before. His natural instinct would be to raise his weapon, instead he felt it beginning to lower.  
And that was when he saw the sight that would haunt his dreams for the next 60 years.  
Kíli.  
Azog.  
Kíli’s body was being dragged down Ravenhill, by Azog towards the mass of shadows. Dead or unconscious Thorin could not tell. He was close enough to see Kíli’s eye lids flutter open, and he sighed with relief. Kíli struggled to get out of Azog’s grip and was rewarded with a kick to the temple. Thorin’s youngest nephew collapsed back down onto the ground, and did not stir. Azog’s eyes met Thorin’s and he gave him a cruel, malicious smile.  
Thorin was paralysed with shock for a second, before letting out a terrible cry, as he dashed up the hill with a speed he did not know he possessed. But before he was even ten meters away, a wave of darkness enveloped him, and stopped him in his tracks. Try as he might he could not move, he could only watch as Fíli, who had also come running was paralysed by the shadow too. The tendrils of darkness spread until the entire battle field was frozen in horror.  
Azog bowed down to the shadow and spoke roughly in the common tongue.  
“We have our prize Dark Lord.”  
Then with another smile he strode up to Thorin.  
He noted grimly that the shadows had not only paralysed the Dwarves, Elves and Men, but most of the orcs as well.  
“For an age it seems, I’ve desired your head Oakenshield’ Azog began, and Thorin hissed, trying not to let his terror show ‘Now I realise there is a better way to hurt you Oakenshield, a better way to make you suffer”  
With that he strode over and roughly hauled Kíli’s limp body onto a warg. He began binding the young prince to the warg, who snarled, but stayed put.  
Thorin tried desperately to free himself from the binding shadows, struggling and yelling. But it was Fíli who shouted out  
“KíLI, NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS PLEASE! TAKE ME INSTEAD”  
The shadows spoke three words, in an icy voice that sent cold chills down every spine.  
“No he’s mine.” It almost seem to hiss  
Azog walked over to Fíli and gave a rough, grating laugh  
“Say farewell to the filth, Durin mutt”  
Fíli’s face was wet with teared as he fruitlessly struggled against the shadows.  
Azog the whacked the warg bearing Kíli, who growled and sprang off. Azog watched him go with a satisfied grin. He laughed then marched off after the warg at the same time as the shadows released its captives. Thorin and Fíli fell to the ground.  
The others stumbled a bit, as they realised they were free of the dark grip. The remaining orcs squealed as they realised they had been abandoned.  
Most tried to flee, but were brought down by the ever determined Elves and Dwarves.

 

With a shout and a grunt of pain though, Thorin and Fíli both got to their feet and sprinted after Azog. Tears were still running freely, and un-shamefully down Fíli’s cheeks as he desperately called him brothers’ name. They were joined in their sprint a few seconds later by Dwalin, and a red haired she-elf, who soon overtook them.  
“THORIN!” They heard Gandalf calling. “FÍLI, DWALIN, COME BACK HERE”  
“TAURIEL STOP, PLEASE” they heard another voice, Legolas’ calling. None of them paid any attention, but kept on sprinting. So Legolas and Gandalf too, gave chase.  
Tauriel who was by far the fastest, caught up with Azog first, who, in his arrogance, was not riding a warg, but simply striding along.  
He barely had time to turn around and register she was there before she charged into him, knocking him to the ground. She drove his dagger into his back again and again, powered by a rage she did not know she possessed. Azog wacked her in the side of her head and threw her dagger to the side. Despite being unarmed she continued to trade blows, punching and kicking again and again, until Legolas pulled her, limbs flailing, off of him.  
“LET ME GO! LEGOLAS! LET ME GO” she screamed, struggling and kicking, but he was not going to see her receive further injury.  
Azog snarled and started to get to his feet, only to be knocked down again by Thorin. Then Fíli, and Dwalin too, were on him. Azog was usually more than a match for these dwarves, but the fury they possessed was quite frightening; they made Tauriel seem calm and gentle.  
Azog’s end was painful, but in Thorin’s opinion, it was over too quickly.  
“KÍLI” He roared again, and driven on by his determination carried on running, after Fíli, who had taken flight again.  
“Thorin, Fíli, you will stop and come back RIGHT now” Gandalf demanded.  
To his surprise, Fíli did so, and collapsed to the floor wailing and sobbing. Thorin though, paid the wizard no heed.  
“THORIN OAKENSHIELD YOU WILL STOP AND RETURN HERE” Gandalf bellowed. Thorin, against his will, came to an abrupt halt.  
He felt… hollow, strangely empty. He looked back. Gandalf was standing beside Dwalin, who was kicking Azog’s body, Tauriel had given up fighting Legolas, and was sobbing into his arms, whilst he held her close, and Fíli had broken down completely, sobs wracking his body.  
He turned back to Gandalf, and said the one word Fíli was repeating over and over:  
“Why?”


	2. "There is still hope"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up bigger then I was originally going to make it, but I thought adding more into it would help make the story clearer, so hope you enjoy!

“Leave Sauron to me”  
That was what he had said.  
That is what he told the white council.  
And they trusted him.  
A small smile played across his face. He had always thought Sauron a … mysterious force. He had never seen what would be so terrible if Sauron was left to take over middle earth. True he would eliminate the races of Men, Elves and all other free folk, but they were lesser, beneath him. Sauron’s dominion could be… refreshing.  
Still, he had always aided the white council at keeping him at bay.  
Not any more though. With the recent discovery of the third Palantír, Saruman had discovered more about the Dark Lord, and found him sympathising with Sauron’s cause.  
The other fools in the white council would never try seeing eye to eye with the Dark Lord.  
The elves being too arrogant and snobbish, and Mithrandir… well he was a fool. Having dealings with common folk: Halflings and Dwarves.  
Saruman sneered. He’d always had a particular disliking for those greedy folk. 

So, when Saruman had said “Leave Sauron to me” he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. This inside information, and the trust of some of the most powerful people in middle earth would certainly come in handy though.  
All this Saruman pondered as he prepared, then set off on his ride to Baradur to meet the Dark Lord, his new ally, properly.

***

“Fíli lad, ye need to eat” Oin said, casting Thorin a worried glance. Fíli absently took the bowl of soup he was offered and twirled the spoon round and round, before setting it down beside him. Oin left him with a sigh.  
The blond dwarf hadn’t said a word since Gandalf had guided him back to Erebor the previous day. His eyes were red and puffy and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. The loss of his brother had shocked him to the core, now he sat by the throne staring at his hands.  
Tauriel, who had been allowed to remain in Erebor by a now indifferent Thorin, was hunched up besides Fíli. She didn’t look much better than him. Her hair was tangled and the tear tracks were obvious down her pale cheeks.  
Legolas dropped in from time to time to check on her, much to the annoyance of King Thranduil. However his son was determined to see the she-elf was ok. He would have stayed permanently by her side, but there was work to do; tending the injured, collecting the bodies of the dead, striking bargains with the Men of Dale and Dwarves of Erebor.  
For their part, the remainder of Thorin’s company was kept as busy as Legolas. Or perhaps they were just burying their grief in their work, whilst ensuring Thorin got a long a respite as possible. They too manged to drop by to the throne room, to check on the unlikely, grief stricken, trio; Fíli, Thorin and Tauriel.  
Thorin was pacing up and down in front of the throne. He felt completely drained, and he knew that soon, he would have to start his duties as king, but for now everyone was being kind and understanding- not wanting to push Thorin too far.  
He recalled his heated conversation with Gandalf yesterday after the initial shock was over:

 

“We can’t just leave him there to be tortured by orcs! I have to go after him!” Thorin had shouted at Gandalf.  
“You are King Thorin, you have a kingdom here to manage! You cannot just go running of onto the blue, abandoning your people.” Gandalf had said, exasperated.  
Thorin had stared at him, shocked by the wizard’s indifference.  
“Then I don’t want to be king.’ said Thorin had said, looking up at Gandalf, his blue eyes brimming with tears.  
‘Not if I have to abandon my own nephew to a fate worse than death.”  
Gandalf had sighed and looked down. In truth, he’d been upset by Kili’s capture far more than he was letting on. The young lad had been the cause of light and laughter among the company. It was clear all regarded him very fondly, and Thorin in particular was very protective of his nephew. He was still a child in most of the companies’ eyes. The burden of having failed his sister’s son, weighed heavily on Thorin’s shoulders.  
“Thorin listen’ Gandalf began again, much more gently. ‘I do not think you quite realise the force you are working with. This is no human sorcerer, this is an evil beyond all others, I-” the wizard trailed off.  
“I am truly sorry Thorin, but the Dark Lord is a force incredibly powerful, and I fear if you tried to get Kíli back then he would destroy you, or worse.”  
“So I am supposed to leave my sister’s son in the clutches of the Dark Lord Sauron; enemy of the free peoples of middle earth! I cannot do that to him Gandalf, not Kili. I can’t, I won’t, I…” Thorin seemed to struggle for words  
“You know why they are doing this Gandalf, don’t you?’ Thorin demanded ‘They are doing this to hurt me, to hurt Fíli. To make our line weak and vulnerable. Fili he… he needs his brother Gandalf, I need him.”  
Gandalf looked into Thorin’s eyes, the pain there was almost a tangible thing.  
“By trying to rescue Kíli, you are doing what the enemy wants you to do.”  
“SO YOU WANT ME TO ABANDON HIM THEN, DO YOU?” Thorin roared containing himself no longer.  
“JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE A COLD, HEARTLESS OLD MAN, IT DOES NOT MEAN I AM!” Thorin knew he was being unreasonable, but he could not seem to halt the flow of anger. He had to pour it somewhere.  
Thorin had stalked away from the old man then, before he could say something he knew he would come to regret.

 

Looking back on the conversation know, he knew it wasn’t Gandalf he was angry with, not really.  
It was himself.  
He was angry with himself for allowing Kíli’s capture to happen in the first place.  
For being too wrapped up in petty feelings of betrayal, to realise what a big mistake he had made by leaving his young nephew on Ravenhill. Because he was angry with him for having friendship with this, this, elf maiden.  
He stopped pacing and glanced at her. She was pretty he supposed, for an elf.  
Tauriel. That was what the Elven King’s son called her. He realised he was staring and quickly looked away. He’d always thought elves to be heartless creatures, yet here was one who had saved his nephew’s life, who clearly cared for him.  
When she had asked, in that hoarse, broken voice, if she might be permitted to stay in Erebor. He had merely nodded. He did not possess the heart to turn her away, but he was too upset to do anything else. He wondered why she did not just go back to her own kin. But she seemed to be good for Fíli, in moral support anyway, and he for her.  
The two of them side by side, wrapped up in their grief. 

Thorin sat down on the edge of his throne. Kíli was lost to them, if the Dark Lord had him, then little could be done.  
It was hopeless.  
Thorin hated to think of his little prince alone, in the clutches of someone even Gandalf feared. He wanted to cry, yet no tears would come.  
He heard footsteps and looked up to see Gandalf enter, followed by the rest of his company.  
“So that is it then.” Said Thorin bitterly “There is no hope.”  
The company members all looked at their feet, apart from Bilbo who walked up to Thorin, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
Gandalf cleared his throat and two more distraught gazes joined Thorin’s and the companies’, falling upon Gandalf.  
“I do not believe there is much hope, but I will call a meeting of the white council, to be held here in Erebor. We will discuss the return of Sauron, and what is to be done about Kíli. We will discuss what can be done, but I warn you, you may not like their decision.  
Thorin nodded gravelly. For the first time their seemed to be a glimmer of hope in Fíli and Tauriel’s eyes. Blue and green.  
Gandalf wished there wasn’t. He did not want to see the disappointment and heartbreak he knew would be found there if the white council could not find a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm away for the next few days, so there probably won't be a lot of progress on the story, but I'll try to get the next chapter online before the end of half term. No promises but I will try!


	3. "Leave Sauron to me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the Chapter 3, I hope the transitions through time are clear in this chapter. Please enjoy! I don't know when Chapter 4 will be on with school starting again, but hopefully it'll be soon!

Saruman had been riding for a week, passing Minas Tirith a few days ago, when he received the letter, delivered to him by a scruffy looking raven.  
He didn’t know the animals were now being used to send letters.  
Apprehensively, he took the letter clasped in the bird’s claws, carefully making sure he did not touch the filthy creature.  
He scanned through the first few lines with little interest, but then something caught his eye.  
“As you will know, the Dark Lord Sauron has returned. We need to meet to discuss this, I suggest we do this in the newly reclaimed dwarven kingdom; Erebor.”  
A letter from Gandalf the Grey, summoning him to Erebor, to discuss the return of Sauron.  
Erebor he thought scornfully. Why would Gandalf want him and the other members of the white council to mingle with those filthy dwarves?  
He read on.  
“I understand that elsewhere may be more convenient for you, however The King under the Mountain’s nephew was taken captive by the Dark Lord, which was deeply upsetting for the dwarves, and myself too.  
I think there is little hope of returning him to his kin; dead or alive. However, I have informed the dwarves that I would meet with you, and discuss what is to be done.”  
Saruman’s lips curled into a sneer. He did not read the rest. He did not have to.  
He knew what Mithrandir would say.  
But this, this news of the “king’s” nephew was interesting. He wondered what the Dark Lord could possible want with a dwarven princeling brat.  
Saruman hastily scribbled a note explaining that he was on his way to Mordor. Not to do anything drastic, just to see if there was anything of importance they could pick up on. He wrote that he would be as quick as he could, getting to Erebor, but it would take him at least another two weeks.  
He handed his response to the raven and watched it take flight.  
A cruel smile spread across his face as he mounted his horse. Then he laughed, a crooked sound even to his own ears. He could not imagine heartless creatures like dwarves, grieving, but the image amused him none the less.  
He whipped his horse cursing it to run faster.  
Whatever the Dark Lord had in store for this dwarf, he was keen to find out.  
***

They had been in Lothlorien for a few days now, and Lord Elrond was confident the Lady Galadriel was fully recovered after Dol Guldur.  
He knew it to be unlikely that she would be able to use the power of her ring, Nenya to that great an extent, for a very long time, if ever.  
He was wandering along the path with his only daughter, Arwen, when Haldir came rushing up to them.  
“My Lord Elrond, I am sorry to disturb you, but a letter has just arrived for you and the Lady Galadriel. It comes from Gandalf the Grey.”  
If Elrond was at all startled, he hid it well. He nodded to his daughter, with a smile only she and his sons; Elladan and Elrohir, could pull out of him, ever since his beloved wife Celebrían had passed to the Grey Havens.  
He followed Haldir along the path, winding in and out of the grey mallorn trees. The silvery light of lanterns illuminating the path. Elrond could not help but admire the slivery beauty of Lorien, it was just as magnificent as the Valley of Imladris.  
He reached the clearing where the Lord and Lady of Lorien were sat. As he approached, his mother in law, radiant as ever, passed him a letter with Mithrandir’s long slanting hand writing on it.  
With a furrowed brow he read the letter and looked up, shocked.  
“How terrible for them!” he said in understanding.  
True he wasn’t known for his friendship the dwarves, but that did not mean he did not feel sympathy for Thorin Oakenshield and his kin’s loss, and for the lad who’d been captured, himself.  
“Indeed.” The Lady of Lorien replied.  
“This is most troubling news! What would the Dark Lord want with a dwarf, moreover the Thorin Oakenshield’s nephew?” Lord Elrond asked.  
“Yes, this is most disturbing.’ She agreed, fixing him with her piercing gaze.  
“Should I prepare mounts my Lady?” asked Haldir, who had been hovering at the edge of the glade.  
“Saruman shall not arrive for at least another week after us if we leave now’ Elrond commented ‘We should leave in seven days.”  
“I think that would be wise” said Galadriel slowly. She was deeply unsettled by Mithrandir’s news, when was she not? But she had an uneasy feeling of what the Dark Lord might do to the poor dwarf.  
***  
Saruman’s mind was spinning. He was not sure quite what to expect when he had rode to Baradur, but now, over a week later, Saruman was still feeling rather shaken by the whole affair.  
The Dark Lord had an evil presence to him such as he had never imagined.  
And the dwarf…  
He was looking forward to seeing what Sauron had planned, and true he had been left in total awe. But he had never, in his darkest dreams imagined what Sauron was planning to do to him. He was almost feeling sorry for the lad before he reminded himself what he was. A filthy no good dwarf.  
Saruman pondered over what he needed to tell the white council.  
First he would need to tell them that the dwarf brat was dead. More importantly though, he needed to draw attention away from Mordor, so that Sauron might be allowed to gather his full strength in peace.  
So much lying, so much deceit. He only hoped the Lady of light would not suspect anything. He knew they would find out his deceit eventually, the question was, how long could he keep this act up for?

***

“Navaer Adar!” Cried Arwen, throwing her arms around her father “Garo lend vaer” she whispered into his ear.  
Elrond drew away, drinking in the image of his beautiful daughter.  
“I am sorry I must leave now’ he said ‘I would have us spend more time together but…” Elrond, usually so eloquent with words, seemed to fumble. He sighed. He missed Arwen terribly during her frequent stays in Lorien.  
“Come we must not delay any longer.” Came Galadriel’s smooth voice from behind him.  
It was true. With a last smile at his daughter, he mounted his horse.  
He glanced back at his daughter who was now being guided away by Estel. The pair were talking and laughing together, seeming totally relaxed.  
Lord Elrond tensed, then and rode off after the Lady of Light.  
They had set off much later than originally intended, but there had been trouble with orcs on their south-east border. It had been almost two weeks since Mithrandir had sent the letter, Lord Elrond thought guiltily, but it had been necessary they stayed until they were sure everything was under control.  
Elrond found his mind travelling to his young ward; Estel or Aragorn as he was more frequently being called.  
He could not bring himself to regret his decision to take Estel along to Lorien, he seemed to have taken a shine to his daughter, and she to him.  
It was something he both feared, and took pleasure in.  
She is no longer an elfing Galadriel’s voice slipped into his mind you will have to let her make her own decision before the end.  
I know, thought Elrond. That is what I’m afraid of…  
***  
“How long are they going to take?” Bellowed Thorin.  
“They should arrive here within the week” Gandalf replied calmly.  
Thorin sighed. He knew Kili was as good as dead, but he would not give up hope. He could not.  
Things in Erebor had been going well, repairs had been progressing nicely.  
The same could not be said for Fíli’s heart. He had taken to shutting himself in his room, and refused to speak to anyone but Tauriel.  
Thorin knew he blamed himself. He was filled with almost as much self-loathing as Thorin himself was.  
He gazed at the mound of treasure being given to the men of Dale. He currently had more desire for orc dung.  
“Thorin! Gandalf!” Bilbo came sprinting into the room, panting for breath.  
“What is it Bilbo?” Gandalf asked.  
“They’re here” he blurted out “Lord Elrond and…”  
“The Lady of Light” Gandalf finished for him with a smile and a nod. “There is one more we must wait for, although it might be a few days still until his arrival.”  
“No. Fili won’t last much longer. We are losing him.” Thorin looked up at Gandalf, the pain clear in his eyes. “Without his brother he is broken. I cannot lose them both Gandalf, Erebor needs an heir.” Thorin sounded desperate.  
Gandalf surveyed him for a few seconds, seeing that what Thorin was saying was true.  
“Very well, we will take council together tomorrow, with or without Saruman the White.”  
***  
The Lonely Mountain towered up before him as Saruman leaped off his badly whipped horse.  
He barged passed the guards, waiting at the main entrance, marching into Erebor, not even taking the time to glance down his nose at the dwarf scum.  
“Take me to the King!” He demanded to the nearest dwarf.  
“I’m sorry but he is in a very important meeting at the moment, regarding the Dark Lord and…” the young dwarf gulped “his nephew. I was on my way their now!”  
“Take me there.” He ordered icily.  
The nervous young dwarf nodded and hurried away, Saruman strode after him.  
Down and down they travelled, along narrow passages until at last they came to a pair of firmly sealed double doors. Raised voices could be heard within.  
The dwarf gently knocked on the door. It open a crack.  
“Head inside Ori” said another ginger haired dwarf, who glanced uncertainly at Saruman.  
Saruman was not in the mood to talk to stubborn dwarves though, and he barged past to where the White Council, a dozen or so dwarves, a halfing and she-elf were gathered around the table.  
All looked up, the majority appeared startled at his entrance, Mithrandir’s voice trailed off.  
“Stop!” cried Saruman. Now to put his plan into action  
“I bring word of the prince!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin Translations:  
> Navaer Adar ~ farewell father  
> Garo lend vaer ~ Have a good journey
> 
> Sorry, I was meant to have the meeting with the White Council and Dwarves (the council of Erebor) in this chapter, but I got a bit carried away with the Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Arwen. It was only meant to be a small paragraph but I wanted for it to tie in with later events in Lord of the Rings.  
> Anyway I hope you liked it and please leave lots of comments!


	4. “In your heart you begin to understand, there is no going back”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the gap, that was far longer than I intended, I lost my ideas notebook, and I've had loads of homework. On top of that, I've had to choose my GCSE options, which was kinda stressful. But hey, it will only get worse!  
> Anyway on with the story. I have given you an extra long chapter to compensate. Also, I completely made up law with elven pregnancies, so ask if you're confused. I apologise in advance for any SPAP mistakes there are, but I rushed through editing so I could get this chapter up today. I felt you had been kept waiting long enough.

The meeting room fell silent  
"What?” Said Thorin slowly.  
Fíli was gazing at Saruman, willing him to speak.  
“I think you’d best sit down” said Gandalf, drawing up a chair.  
Saruman did so, seemly not conscious of the fact that the gaze of everyone in the room was burning into him.  
“How did you come by this knowledge?” asked The Lady of Light, eventually in a measured tone.  
“As Gandalf knows, I have just arrived here… having visited Mordor.” Saruman replied.  
There were a sharp intake of breath from around the table.  
He went on “I began my journey before I learnt of your… Distressing news.” He said, tilting his head towards Thorin.  
“My original purpose was to gather information on the Dark Lord, not to intrude, but to collect information.” He spoke slowly.  
The tension around the table was an almost tangible thing.  
When Saruman showed no signs that he was about to continue, Thorin addressed him, his hoarse voice barley a whisper.  
“And? Did? What, did you…? Did you find?” he struggled to get his words out.  
Typical stupid dwarf Saruman thought. He looked forward to causing him pain.  
“When I reached Mordor, I was surprised that the presence of evil there was only very minor. So, I approached the tower of Baradur. There were a dozen or so orcs around outside, but nothing more that I could see. This surprised me, and I crept closer. That’s when I heard strange sounds coming from the tower. I soon realised they were screams of pain.”  
Gandalf closed his eyes. He knew where this was going.  
Fíli’s hands were shaking violently, so Tauriel clasped them in hers.  
Thorin’s face was pale as Bilbo nervously grasped his shoulder in support.  
Saruman continued. He was enjoying this, but he made sure he kept his face empty of emotion.  
“I had received Mithrandir’s letter, but I only pieced two and two together, when several orcs dragged a small, broken form out of the tower.”  
Fili let out a gasp as if he’d been stabbed, as the tears that had formed in his eyes began rolling down his face. Tauriel sobbed, and buried her head in Fíli’s shoulder.  
“It was clear he had suffered much.” Saruman added, wondering if he was enjoying this a little too much. He looked around, pleased to see that the only dry faces were that of Galadriel and Elrond. Even Mithrandir had a small tear trickling down his face.  
“The only words I made out from him were; I should be glad to die, for I would not want to live in a world where my own kin abandoned me!”  
Lady Galadriel glared at Saruman. How could he not see that he was causing them pain?  
She knew he was good with words, and should just have delivered the news simply, rather than drawing out the pain with little details.  
Had his kin not been so weighed down by grief, they might have noticed that those words did not sound at all like Kíli.  
“I-Is there any hope” Thorin asked, shaking slightly.  
“They cast the body of the edge of a cliff.”  
“No” sobbed Fíli  
“There was no chance of recovering it.”  
“LIAR” screamed Fíli, tears gushing down his cheeks “YOU’RE LYING, MY BROTHER CAN’T BE DEAD! YOU LEFT HIM THERE TO DIE! YOU COWARD”  
He lunged at Saruman but was pulled back by Dwalin.  
“Come on lad” he mumbled, pulling a grief stricken Fíli outside.  
The room was left in silence.  
Then, one by one, the teary dwarves got up and departed but, before each one left they bowed deeply to Saruman. Thorin was the last one out.  
He gave a small bow to Saruman, and hesitated, feeling Saruman was owed an explanation.  
“Th- thank you for b-brining news of our kin. W-where he is now, at least we kn-know he’s not s-suffering anymore.”  
With that they departed, leaving only the White council left in the room.

“What?’ Elrond demanded, venom in his tone ‘Was that!”  
Saruman did not look up, he merely continued picking the dirt from his nails “I told them the truth.”  
Gandalf lifted his head from his hands and stared at Saruman in a look of disbelief.  
“His last words were; I should be glad to die, for I would not want to live in a world where my own kin abandoned me!” Gandalf said incredulously.  
“They were.” replied Saruman simply.  
“Perhaps they were, but do you honestly think his kin needed to hear that! They are finding his death hard enough to get over without you adding that”  
“You have caused them unnecessary pain.” Galadriel said giving Saruman a cool look.  
Saruman looked down under the glare of his companions, pretending to be ashamed.  
Yes, he had definitely enjoyed that too much than was good for him, and they’d noticed.  
At least they still could not suspect the truth.  
“The boy was lucky really.” Saruman said. “Sauron was not even there.”  
“What?” Elrond looked up, surprised.  
“He was not?” asked Galadriel.  
“No” Saruman said sensing an opportunity to change the subject. “The presence of evil there was far too weak. He must be far weaker than we first anticipated, and is sheltering somewhere more secret. Mordor is abandoned, save for a few orcs who will wipe each other out soon enough.”  
There. That should keep them away from Mordor while the Dark Lord was gathering his strength. The men of Minas Tirith might notice movement, but he thought it unlikely. Not if the ruins of Osgiliath were left to crumble.  
“That is good news at least!” Said Lord Elrond.  
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and find Thorin. He’ll want there to be a funeral.” Muttered Gandalf.  
“Yes, I think it better we continue this discussion tomorrow.” said Lady Galadriel.  
“What discussion? The enemy is gone!” cried Saruman.  
“It is true, there seems little more to discuss.” Agreed Elrond. “I would be keen to get back to Lorien.”  
When Galadriel sent him a questioning look, he said;  
“To make sure Arwen and Aragorn aren’t getting up to anything.” He said looking slightly embarrassed.  
“Elessar is only 27” Galadriel said with an amused expression.  
“Of all my daughters’ children, I thought Elladan and Elrohir were the ones you were tirelessly worrying over!”

“Perhaps once, but not anymore.” Elrond sighed. 

***  
Even after a month, none of them had fully recovered from the loss. Balin supposed they never would, but Bilbo was making the return trip to the Shire next week.  
It only seemed fair that the lad had a proper chance to say his goodbyes to Kíli. What’s more, he knew that if they did not have a funeral soon, they never would.  
So he had persuaded the others, and Kíli’s funeral would take place this afternoon.  
Balin sighed.  
Fíli had barely uttered a word since his outburst at Saruman. He was still hanging on though, thanks to the she-elf he supposed. Thorin was more reserved than ever, swamped by his guilt.  
He had broken his promise.  
Back in Ered Luin, the Lady Dís had cried silently, as she hugged her sons goodbye. Pressing that stone into Kíli’s hand, she had said “Remember your promise.”  
She had then turned to Thorin, embracing her brother she whispered into his ear “Promise me Thorin. Promise you’ll bring them back alive!”  
“I promise.” He had replied gruffly. Only Balin had witnessed that exchange.  
Lady Dís had arrived less than a week ago, and Balin knew she had not held her brother accountable for the loss of her youngest son, but that didn’t stop Thorin from blaming himself.  
He hoped the funeral would give them all a chance to take a deep breath and let go. Because however much Balin loved Kíli, like his own grandchild, he knew that it would be best for everyone if they let him go. He would be missed, of course, but hopefully the grim mist of grief would lift slightly.

***

There was no body to bury. So instead, they placed all of Kíli’s possessions into the coffin. It wasn’t much; lots had been lost on the journey. But it was something.  
So began the ceremony. Each member of the company carefully placed an item into the coffin, with a word or two of farewell. However, before Tauriel, who went last, could place anything in, someone lightly cleared there throat. Everyone looked up to see the Prince of Mirkwood standing in the entrance of the chamber.  
“I am sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might appreciate this.” Legolas walked over to Thorin, and handed him Kíli’s beautifully carved bow that had been taken off him during their capture.  
Thorin took it carefully in both hands, tears he’d been holding back sprung to his eyes. Silently he handed it to his sister, who held in like it might shatter under her touch.  
“I” Thorin’s voice shock “I cannot tell you how much this means to us” he said looking deeply into the elf’s eyes. “Thankyou.”  
Legolas said nothing, but smiled. He nodded respectfully and walked to Tauriel’s side, squeezing her shoulder.  
Dís lovingly placed the bow into the tomb.  
“Farewell my son. You…’ her voice wobbled, but she cleared her throat and went on.  
“You left us too young. But we will never forget you. The world will be a darker place without you.”  
She turned to Tauriel, who closed her eyes, then stepped forwards.  
“I did not know you for a long Kíli. But in that short time, you turned my world upside down. Please know that you will forever be in the hearts of those who love you. There will always be a piece of you left here.” She whispered, salty drops lingering in her long lashes.  
Then she leant down, carefully placing the black rune-stone on top of the coffin lid.  
As she drew away, she had to stifle a gasp. A long, thin crack ran through the length of the polished black surface. Tears pooled in her eyes and she stepped away, towards Fíli’s side. He grasped her hand in his, and the two of them looked up together as the lid was carefully placed on.  
Legolas shot them a curious look before smiling to himself.  
The company of dwarves began to circle the grave, singing a deep low song in their ancient language.  
Fili and Tauriel stood to the side, silently watching.  
“This is the second time I’ve attended a funeral with no body to bury.” Said Fíli. His voice was hollow.  
“Last time it was my father’s. Now it is my brothers.” Tears slipped easily down Fíli’s face. “They never found his body, I always kept hope buried deep in my heart. But he will never come back.”  
Tauriel nodded “My people attacked Gundabad, and came back having suffered a heavy loss. Neither of my parents returned.” She said in understanding.  
The two stood in silence, sharing their grief together. 

***  
It was a day after the funeral, when Fíli chanced upon the pair of elves on the balcony.  
Legolas was holding the red head in his arms whilst she cried, getting words through her sobs.  
“I thought- I thought I could get over it, over him but-”  
She broke into another series of sobs.  
“It’s ok Tauriel” Legolas said soothingly.  
“No, no it’s not! I’ve just found out, and now you tell me you’re going north!”  
“It is better this way.” Legolas said.  
“NO! No, it will forever be there, reminding me of him, never letting me forget!” She gasped.  
“I thought I was strong! But I can’t do this anymore Legolas! I can’t!”

Fíli had turned his back on the two then. He didn’t want to hear any more of what they were saying. He did wonder though…

***

“Tauriel?”  
“Oh. Hello Fili.”  
Said Tauriel turning round.  
She was standing on the same balcony she had been a few days ago, when Fíli had found her ‘talking’ to Legolas.  
The two stared out at the view for several minutes, before Fíli decided he had to break this silence.  
“Good place for confessions isn’t it” he said lightly.  
Tauriel hid the fact she was startled well, but Fíli caught a glimmer of uncertainty.  
“It’s nothing” she said flatly  
Fíli raised his eyebrows but did not push her.  
“Oh it’s no good! I can’t keep this hidden from you any more Fíli! Especially since-” she hesitated.  
“Especially since what Tauriel?” he asked gently.  
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before saying.  
“Especially since by elven law, you’re my brother in law.”  
“What?!” Fíli spluttered.  
Whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t this.  
“Let me start from the beginning” she said.

“In elven culture, when two beings… share in a joining of bodies, they, they are married.”  
“Oh so that’s it.” Fíli was shocked. ‘You and Kíli, well you were married!”  
“Yes, but there’s more.” she said.  
“I… don’t get excited, please, I, well I would be pregnant.”  
“Would be?” asked Fíli.  
“With elven pregnancies, the baby is first formed when two share their bodies. However, a baby will only start to grow if a loving action takes place between its parents at least one week after. If it doesn’t, the baby will never develop. But its soul will always be there. Sometimes babies can start to develop centuries after the parents first made love.”  
Fíli seemed lost for words. Tauriel’s words at the funeral made more sense now “There will always be a piece of you left here.” She wasn’t referring to the part of his brother left in their hearts. She was referring to his child, never to be born! Her conversation with Legolas was making more sense too “it will forever be there, reminding me of him, never letting me forget!”  
“So, what you’re trying to tell me, is that you’re carrying Kíli’s child… who can never be born.”  
“Yes.” she replied simply. “Well Children actually. They’re twins, a boy and a girl. I can feel it. I can feel them.”  
“Did he, did Kíli know about this?” He asked.  
“He didn’t know I was carrying children, but apart from that, he knew all of it. Knew what he was risking.”  
“Oh.” He said.  
“Oh.” She agreed.  
There was silence again then;  
“It’s never going to stop hurting is it?”  
“No it isn’t” she sighed “but in some ways that’s a good thing.”  
“I suppose it might be. He wouldn’t want us to forget him, but he wouldn’t want us to spend the rest of our lives carrying the weight of the dead.”  
“He would not.” Tauriel nodded “He’s also made sure he will never be forgotten.” she placed a hand on her belly.  
“Never.” Fíli agreed placing a hesitant hand on her stomach as well. “But that was Kíli!”  
“He had a large role in both our lives.” Fíli said “But I think, I think I can move on now.”

***

So, together, they helped each other through their grief. Weeks slipped by into months, and they to years. Erebor flourished in the time.  
Everyone thought of Kíli often, most of all Tauriel and Fíli, who had become inseparable, with a deep, deep friendship. No one however, held any hope that the dwarf who had played such a major role in their lives, might be out there. Still living and breathing.  
No one had any doubt.  
That was until, 60 years later, when the letter came…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm not entirely happy with it. But it isn't my opinion that matters in the end. It's yours, so please don't hesitate to leave comments. I hope I can give you the next chapter soon, but I can't make promises, and I've barely planned it out at all. So I hope you liked this update, even if it wasn't very nice. ):


	5. "If I leave him now, I will regret it forever”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry about how long it took to update this. I wrote a bit and then thought I want more Kili in the story, so I added lots. I would advice you to read the first chapter again either before or after this one because the two make each other make more sense.

The cries of battle filled the air around them.   
Kíli had not left the red-heads side since he first spotted her.  
He had seen her, locked in combat with a huge orc when another foul creature came running up behind her, blade drawn.  
“Tauriel!” He cried as he felt his heart being wrenched.  
He ran faster than he ever had before to come to her aid.  
“Kíli! Where are you going? I need you here!” Thorin had yelled after him.   
The king and his nephews had been fighting together until that point, furiously knocking down anything in their path. They covered and defended each other so Kíli’s departure put them dangerously off balance.  
Thorin narrowed his eyes as he saw his youngest nephew stab an orc, flashing a bright smile to an elf! In that moment, Thorin’s sword was knocked out of his hands and he was sent crashing to the ground.   
It would have ended then if not for the fact that Dain came crashing through the ranks, saving him from certain death.  
“Cousin!” cried Dain pulling him onto his feet and embracing him.  
“Are you ok?”  
“That traitor.” Thorin growled softly.  
He could not get over the fact he could have died, because his nephew valued the life of an elf over that of his own kin. He ground his teeth together.

*

Kíli knew Thorin was reliving that moment as they stood on top of Ravenhill. He met Thorin’s steely gaze, brown challenging blue. The disappointment, disapproval and betrayal in Thorin’s eyes were clear.   
Kíli didn’t care.  
He would love that elf until the day he died.   
Nothing Thorin did or said would change that.  
Valar help him, he would risk everything to be with his wife.   
Even banishment, if it came to it.  
His wife…   
That thought brought him up short. What would Thorin do if he ever found out? One thing was for sure, Kíli would be out of Erebor before he could say “Arkenstone".  
What did this future hold for him?

Finely Thorin said, without meeting his eye “Fíli. Take your brother, scout out the tower, do not engage. Do you understand?”  
The two brothers nodded curtly and turned on their heels heading towards the tower, but before Kíli could go any further he felt Thorin’s hand on his shoulder.  
“We will discuss what happened earlier later.”  
Kíli shivered internally. That cold, cold tone of voice had never been directed at him before.  
He hurriedly followed Fíli towards the tower.

*  
He heard footsteps behind him and whirled round but could make nothing out other than the shadows and gloom of the dank passage under Ravenhill.  
“Fíli?” Kíli called timidly.  
Silence.  
He peered into the passage but could see nothing.  
He turned around again, creeping through the passage, senses sharp and alert.  
When he heard the bloodthirsty roar from behind, he whirled round.  
Just not quick enough.   
Azog’s blade swept across his forehead. He gasped in pain as slippery red liquid began dripping into his eyes.  
He did not hesitate before diving at Azog with his sword, scraping the foul creature’s thigh. Azog roared in pain and swung his spiked mace at Kíli. The tunnel was too cramped to move and the young dwarf took the impact in his chest.  
Fortunately, Azog had not put his full strength into the blow. Though it was enough that the young dwarf stumble back as he felt air leave and pain flood his body. The moment cost him dearly as Azog kicked him in the gut.   
Kíli fell, arms wrapped around his chest and Azog kicked him again. He groaned as Azog cried out in the rough Orcish tongue.   
Orcs poured from the exit Kíli had been heading for. Two of them hauled the dark headed dwarf up by his arms causing him to gasp in pain.   
“Well, well what have we here?” Azog asked slowly.  
Kíli looked up into Azog’s eyes, but was partially blinded by the blood pouring from his open wound.  
“Oakenshield’s filthy nephew is it not?” He asked with a smirk.  
He pressed his cool, steel blade to Kíli’s neck.   
“If I had my way, I chop you filthy little neck off and hand them remains to Oakenshield.” The creature said.  
“But as it so happens, my master has big plans for you, dwarf-scum.”  
Kíli desperately struggled against the arms of the orcs but froze as Azog pressed the blade deeper into in neck, drawing beads of blood.  
“Careful.” The orc whispered into his ear.  
“We could spare you and let your brother enjoy my master’s company instead.”  
At the threat to his brother the dwarf tensed up.  
“What have you done to him?” He asked terrified.  
“Nothing.” Sneered Azog.   
“But if you do not behave yourself, we may find it necessary to chop your little head off and take him in your place.”  
Kíli cursed and spat at Azog.  
The pale orc surveyed him for a second before bringing the butt of his blade against the dark head. The young dwarf slumped forwards, and, on Azog’s orders, the orcs dropped the limp body at his feet.

*  
The journey to Mordor, for the most part, was a hazy memory of pain and torment.   
There were a few clear memories though.  
He recalled being painfully jostled on the back of a warg he was so tightly bound to it was impossible to move. The rough voices of orcs filled his head, and when he opened his eyes a fraction he could see the foul creatures riding wargs of their own.

Where Azog was he did not know. He tried to escape, once, twice, three times. It never did any good.  
The first time he snuck off when the orcs were deeply engaged in a dispute, only to run straight into the path of one of the hunters. He’d been dragged back to the camp, cut harshly on his face, before being told “Do not try that again dwarf-scum.”  
Of course he did try again.   
He had to.   
He was a son of Durin. Some may regard him as a traitor to his kind, but he was a son of Durin no less. And Durin’s folk never gave up. Never went down without a fight.

The second time, he made it about a mile before the sound of wargs crashing through the trees met his ears joined by orc snarls. Then he was seen. He ran and ran, sweat poured down his face. He could not have outrun the warg riders even in full health, but he was weak and injured. There was a sharp twang of an orc bow as an arrow embedded itself in his leg.  
He cried out falling to the ground.   
He no longer had the strength nor will to keep going.  
Two orcs dragged him back to their camp. He had long given up keeping his face from dragging along the ground, and let it get scrape against roots, twigs and stones.  
His old wounds reopened so his face was covered in both mud and blood by the time they reached camp.  
The orc’s leader yanked the arrow out of Kíli’s leg, pouring a strange concoction onto it, which made it burn like fire.  
Kíli cried out. He expected them to do something more but they never did.  
“Do not try that again dwarf-scum.” The orc repeated its former words.

The third time he had to drag himself away, his injured leg was completely useless for the time being. He pulled himself along by his arms a few metres before raising himself onto his good leg he hopped and stumbled. Tears welled in his eyes as he fell forward onto his face. He had no energy left to turn as the familiar sound of orc shouts filled his head.   
They stared down at him. Finally their leader gave a gruff order and two orcs pulled him up.  
“Listen carefully dwarf-scum. You will walk over to that tree stump. Place one leg on it and your life shall be spared.”  
Confused, he did as he was told.  
Tentatively, he hoisted his wounded leg onto the trunk.  
The orc laughed.   
“Wrong leg Scum. The other leg.”  
The young dwarf did as he was told, his injured leg buckling slightly under the weight.  
He did not realise what was going on until the ugly brute lifted up its own leg and brought it, with all the force he could muster, in a thrust kick down onto Kíli’s leg.  
A sharp crack rang out through the clearing, followed by Kíli’s screams of agony as he clutched his broken leg to his body.  
Orc laughter rang out.  
“We warned you. Don’t disobey us again.” Their leader hissed.

Kíli sobbed and wailed for hours, the pain too much to allow him to sleep.  
Eventually though, it overwhelmed him, drawing him into the numb world of unconsciousness.  
When he awoke, he almost screamed the pain was so great. He looked down at his leg, surprised to see it had been cast, so that the bone would heal in place. He frowned. Why would the orcs care if he ever walked again? 

***  
60 Years Later

Thorin sighed.   
He was not the dwarf he once was.  
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. You could see in his eyes that he had suffered much. The sparkling blue pools spoke of pain of joy of loss and grief.  
Today would not be easy. It marked the sixtieth anniversary of the day his youngest nephew had died, according to the White Wizard.  
His little Kíli.  
He was too young. Far too young. Barley an adult.   
They had all been deeply scared by his death, Fíli most of all. In fact, if it had not been for Tauriel, Fíli would have been lost, Thorin was sure of this.   
He had grown attached to the elf himself. He would have thought this impossible before Kíli went. He vaguely remembered his last words to his nephew. He had threatened him because of the women he loved. The women Thorin now loved like a daughter. He was so ashamed of himself.   
He just wished things could have been different.  
He would give all the treasure in Erebor just to see his youngest nephew’s smile again. The smile that could light up a whole room. It filled Thorin’s heart with gladness every time he saw it.  
Thorin had witnessed joy in the sixty years since, but he had not smiled since that fateful day.  
There was a timid knock on the door and Fíli stepped in.  
“They’re waiting to begin the meeting uncle.”  
Thorin nodded curtly and followed his heir through the magnificent halls of Erebor.

He arrived in the meeting room. The same place which, sixty years ago he realised he would never see that beautiful smile again.  
He took his place at the head of the table and Fíli sat to his left.  
So the meeting went on, it was incredibly dull, and Thorin only had half his mind on the topic at hand. Kíli’s face slipped into his mind.  
“Thorin.” Fíli’s voice drew him back to the present. He looked up to find everyone looking expectantly at him.  
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.  
Dwalin who was on his right, sighed heavily.   
“You‘re thinking about him aren’t you uncle?” Fíli asked.  
Thorin sighed, looking down. “Yes. I am sorry.”

The meeting when on again, for the most part he was ignored. He was grateful. Today of all days, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Fíli too looked distant and did not contribute to the meeting.  
An old dwarf who possessed a voice that could send half of Adra to sleep, stood and began talking.   
Suddenly the doors crashed open and a blur of red came flashed past him.   
“What the- Tauriel? Are you ok?”   
The red head knelt before him, looking extremely pale. Tears streamed down her face. Thorin was startled, he had not seen her cry since… Oh Valar.   
“Tauriel what is it? What has happen?”   
Tauriel trembled slightly as she handed him over a slightly crumpled letter.  
“It is from Gandalf.”   
Thorin took it scanned over the contents.   
Fíli, who was standing behind him let out a strangled gasp.   
Thorin began to shake violently “No.” he heard his voice say “NO! It cannot be true!” He cried.   
Fíli had gone very pale but now his face turned a pale green and he dashed for a basin in the corner of the room, before emptying his stomach of breakfast, dinner and probably lunch too. He was left retching on his knees, Dwalin patting him on the back.  
Thorin was still trembling terribly, staring at the letter with a look of pure disbelief written on his face.   
Dwalin crossed the room and looked down at the letter. 

To Tauriel, Fíli son Dís and Thorin Oakenshield   
It is with great pain I write this letter. There is no easy way to tell you this, but I feel it is my duty to bring you this news.  
Saruman the White has betrayed us. It is a great loss in any circumstance, I trusted him deeply. However I had noticed a slight shift in his behaviour around 60 years ago. He has left us to join with the Dark Lord Sauron. My mind was clouded before but now I can see it clearly. He has been under the influence of Sauron for a while now. At that meeting 60 years ago, he was clearly concealing certain information.  
He has lied about so much, the more I think about it he clearer it seems. He lied to us about your nephew.  
I am now sure Kíli is indeed alive, in Mordor and in the hands of the Dark Lord.

 

Dwalin read no more.   
“Mahal” He breathed.

*** 

Fíli slept badly, his dreams swamped by mortifying images of his baby brother in pain. He had felt in his heart that Kíli couldn’t be dead. He had ignored the feeling, pushed it down, drowned it out until he had convinced himself his brother had gone.  
As if in a trance, he dressed himself and walked down stairs to the main hall.  
Tables laden with food stretched out under the great green marble arch. He sat down next to Tauriel. She looked terrible too, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked up at him but could not muster a smile.  
“Fíli.” Barked Thorin from across the hall.  
“Yes uncle?”   
He glanced up. Thorin looked exhausted. He had clearly been up all night.  
“I need your help. We are leaving in two days, there are preparations to be made.”  
Fíli blinked sleepily.  
“I’m sorry, what?” It was then he looked around. Things were in chaos, dwarfs were running to and fro, carrying armour, weapons, food and medical supplies.  
“What’s going on?” He asked, his voice much sharper.  
“As Gandalf advised us, we are riding for Minas Tirith, where we shall join him and Gimli. From there we develop a plan. All who are willing ride with us, but I will force no one to come. I will not rest until I see your brother returned to us.”  
Fíli did not doubt him. This was the dwarf who had braved an impossible quest; rescuing his home from the clutches of the infamous fire breathing dragon with the aid of just thirteen. This time he would be reclaiming his nephew from the clutches of the infamous dark lord.   
Fíli felt hope kindling within him, then get swamped by fear.  
There was a wild look in Thorin’s eyes a wild rage brewing there, waiting to be released. Yes Thorin might not be the dwarf he once was. But he was still an excellent warrior, old or not.

***

Fíli halted his pony, turning back to the mountain in all its magnificence.   
Thorin and Tauriel halted too.   
The trio looked gazed back at The Lonely Mountain, standing there tall and proud. They risked so much to see it returned to glory and now they were leaving for an uncertain future.  
“I wonder if we will ever see it again.” Breathed Fíli.  
Thorin grasped his nephew’s shoulder with a small smile. Fíli looked down and Thorin lifted his chin gently in his hand.   
“Come, my sister’s son.”  
Tears filled Fíli’s eyes for a reason he could not explain. Hastily, he blinked them back.  
Thorin turned and led on. The small procession of dwarves followed solemnly after.  
Still, Fíli stood there unmoving, watching their retreating backs get smaller.   
“So we ride. Why do they follow him when there is no hope?” He spoke softly. He knew Tauriel stood by his side, and her delicate hearing could pick up even his soft words.  
“They ride for love of their king. For love of their princes. They ride for honour and for loyalty. They ride because however small it may be, there is always glimmer of hope. Do not despair mellon-nin. We ride for him. Our love for him and for each other will drive us on. It has served us this far, it will not fail us now Fíli son of Dís. You must have faith.”  
Fíli smiled weakly as he followed his closest friend off into the dying rays of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, I really appreciate comments and feedback. I will also answer any questions you might have just PLEASE comment.


	6. “But he was destroyed! Sauron was destroyed”

His head slumped forwards onto his chest. His breathing was ragged.   
Keep calm he told himself. He felt so weak. His multiple injuries were healing slowly but painfully.  
He hung limply by his wrists and ankles which were chained to the wall, the cruel metal biting his skin leaving it red and raw.  
The empty chamber he was in seemed to be made of dark stone, it was very dimly lit. It was deathly cold. It was a coldness such as he had never felt. It seeped his bones and filled his heart with despair.  
He could make little out through the gloom but there was an evil presence. Sometimes it was fairly weak, other times it was almost overpowering.  
He had lost track of how long he had been here. Days he guessed but it could have been weeks.  
Orcs came in now and again some just stood and laughed at him, others yanked his head back by his hair and poured a vile liquid down his throat, leaving him retching and gagging. It hydrated him but left him feeling thirsty. It filled his stomach yet gave him no energy.

It was after a dose of this, spluttering and choking, he first heard the voice.   
A cruel, cold laughter filled the room. It made him want to cower away, to run and run until he could get the awful sound out of his head.  
“Well well young one” the voice was deep but soft- mocking almost. It left his skin crawling. His whole body shook.  
“Wha-what do you want with me? Wh-who are you” Kíli’s voice sounded far too weak and frail.   
The laughed came again.  
“Who am I? I have many names. All you need know is that I am the rightful Lord of Middle Earth. For the present I am forced to hide away in my fortress of Baradur. But I will have dominion of this earth. And you will help me do this Kíli son of Dís.”  
“How do you know my name?”   
Kíli thought about what the voice had said. Baradur. But that was in Mordor, the land of shadow and fire. If he was in Baradur that meant… but surely it could not be. It was impossible! But that evil, evil, presence that made all thoughts of brighter places and happy times melt away into nothingness- it was the only explanation.   
Horrified he whispered the most feared name in middle earth;   
“Sauron.”   
“So you finally got there did you. Well let me tell you this; I know more than just your name little dwarf. I know everything about you. I can the read the thoughts of those around you and they do not even know it. That is why I like dwarves. They are the race that never meant to exist. As a result of this their minds are able to be penetrated. Sometimes what I see through them is clear, sometimes it is not. Nevertheless I can see into the mind of every dwarf in Middle Earth. Except for one. Except for yours. My access to some minds is shaky, others stronger. But yours, yours I cannot penetrate at all. Why is this I wonder? I have been observing you through the eyes of your friends and family and have come to this conclusion. You are not like other dwarves, are you?  
You do not see the world around you as dwarves do. You do not use the same weapons dwarves would. You do not think as a dwarf should. You do not even look like a dwarf. You have developed feelings for an elf. Dwarves do not, should not care about elves, nor elves dwarves. You have gone against the wishes of your family and kin with your relationship with an elf. More than that. You have gone against the wishes of your King. You knew he would never approve, yet still you persisted.”  
Kíli shuddered. What did it mean? Here he was in the hands of Sauron. Sauron, who had murdered so many, had come so close to conquering the world. Sauron who could read the minds of all around him. Sauron who knew everything about him that mattered. Knowledge was a powerful weapon. He could not trust this being of evil. He should not care what he said. It should not matter. What struck him though, was that it was all true. He wasn’t like most dwarves. He was different. But that still did not explain why Sauron wanted him.

“My king,’ Kíli swallowed. The thought was still painful. ‘My king no longer trusts me. You know this, so why do you want me? You cannot use me to get to him. If you cannot read my mind, why do you want me? I am of no use to you.” His voice seemed slurred as if it were too heavy to move his lips.

Again that chilling laugh.

“Oh but that is exactly why I want you. What makes you like this? Is it sheer stubbornness, a determination to go against what’s expected of you? Whatever makes you the way you are it fascinates me. Let me confide in you a plan I have told no other. I need a… puppet. No puppet is the wrong word, I have a puppet. I need a body. A strong body, physically but more importantly mentally. I have considered my options. It could not be an orc for my orcs would not have enough respect for one who looks like their own. Furthermore I am not convinced all could tell the difference, they are not the brightest creatures. This leaves me with elves, men or dwarves. It could not be a man, their minds while easily corrupted are too weak, too fragile and they are mortal. Elves? The danger there is they would become too much like an orc over time. Did you know orcs were elves once? No one of the firstborn would not work, although their immortality would be a great asset. That left me with dwarves. I have always found your race most intriguing. After reaching this conclusion I began to experiment and to my amusement I found I could read the minds of the children of Aulë.”   
Kíli was confused. Was Sauron talking about? What did he mean he needed a body? It didn’t make sense. Sauron did not have a body at the present, he was but a spirit. But if he could change that… the very thought made Kíli feel sick. And he still did not know why Sauron wanted him.  
“You must be asking yourself what this has to do with you. As I have said I want a dwarf. Since I cannot read your mind at the moment, it means your mind has to be significantly stronger than most. This makes you the best option.”  
If Sauron could have smiled he would have. The young dwarf looked terrified, although he was trying to hide it. Of course what Sauron did not say was that Thorin’s anger at his youngest nephew had evaporated the instant he saw him in the hands of the enemy. The fact that the young dwarf felt rejected by all except that she-elf was defiantly an advantage. It mean it would be easier to break him. And then, then he could use him. Really use him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it's shorter than usual but I have decided to post what would be chapter six in three shorter sections. So they won't be as long but hopefully it will be updated more frequently.


	7. "Once it takes hold of us it never lets go"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sane side of my mind: So what miseries have you got in store for these poor characters this time?  
> Evil side of my mind: (Grins evilly) Lots of miseries. Yes! The more the merrier.  
> Sane side: You scare me sometimes.

“Why do you continue to resist me? You know I will win this battle in the end.”  
Sweat poured down Kíli’s face as he grunted with exertion. He could feel the dark spirit trying to worm its way into his mind. It was taking all his self-control to keep his mind strong, to keep the darkness from penetrating it.  
If you do not let me do this this easy way we will have to do it the hard way. The voice threatened silkily.   
Kíli jerked back in shock. The words had not been spoken out loud, they were in his head. His mind was weakening. The thought of the dark lord being inside his head terrified him. If Sauron could get inside his head he would know everything, his weaknesses, his desires, everything. He could not let that happen, he just could not.   
He could feel the shadows creeping into his thoughts so he focussed his mind on home. The clear tinkle of the cool stream by the house, the wind blowing through fresh green grass, the sun bright and warm on his face.   
Sauron growled in anger. A flash of shadows whipped across Kíli’s face, causing blood to spurt out of the deep wound inflicted. But he held on. He would not give into the shadow this easily.  
More slashes followed the tendrils of darkness cutting into his body. They throbbed and burned- it felt like the fire was in his veins! He sobbed from the pain, feeling felt so weak and useless. He wanted more than anything to give into the pain. But he knew in his heart, he had to stay strong. For his family.  
“You will break little dwarf. Your uncle would tell you that too if he were here. He always thought you were weak.”  
“No.” Moaned Kíli. A part of his mind told him not to listen, to ignore the voice. However that part was shrinking giving way to the urge to let go of everything. The urge to give in to the darkness.  
“Your uncle is glad you have gone. Always you were there, shaming him and your line with your stubborn, strange ways. Now you have gone your uncle stands a chance in restoring the dignity and pride you cause it to loose. You were a burden on all their shoulders. So weak and ignorant.”  
“No!” Kíli said with more force. “You are lying to me! My uncle would never say that.”  
“Perhaps not, but he thinks it. You know this already, do you not? You have seen the way he looked at you. As if you were a disappointment to him.”  
Kili stifled a sob, tears prickling his eyes. He had seen that look. The look of disapproval and disappointment. And then there was that look of hate, no of loathing, that Thorin had given to him that day on Ravenhill.   
“You betrayed him. You as good as sacrificed the life of your King for a simple elf you had known but a few days.”   
Sauron watched the young dwarf take every word like a physical blow. He tried to push into the dwarf’s mind again. It was still too strong to penetrate but weakening, defiantly weakening.  
“Why do you continue to struggle? Do you really think your family would welcome you back after all you have done?” he said almost laughing. He did not think he had had this much fun since defeating Finrod Felagund.  
“If you had not been captured, do you know what would have happened to you?”  
“Yes” Kíli whispered, his mouth dry. Because he did know. With all his heart he knew. It was inevitable. His mouth formed the word but it would not come out.  
“Exile.” The shadows spoke for him. “To spend the rest of your days belonging nowhere, to be cut off from all who you knew and loved. That did not happen because you fell into my hands. Even so your name is mud to your family and friends. Kíli the Traitor. That is all you are to them now. Even your own brother has pushed you from his mind. They are better off without you. Now you are gone, they are ridded of a pitiful weak disgrace.”  
Tears leaked from the dark brown eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he so weak and pathetic? Perhaps Sauron was right. Maybe his family was better off without him. No said the tiny voice in his head. No, do not listen to him. There is one who still cares.  
“Tauriel still loves me.” Kíli said, though his voice wavered in uncertainty.   
“The she-elf?” Sauron did laugh this time, a rough grating sound. “She is dead.”  
“No” Kíli whispered. He felt like he had just been plunged into a lake of ice. His heart was being torn apart.   
“I believe one of my servants recovered this from the body.”   
An orc who had been standing quietly in the corner until this moment tossed a small dark stone at his feet.  
Had Kíli’s vision not been blurred with tears, he would have seen this stone was but a simple black stone. Not the rune stone he had given to Tauriel. But tears clouded his vision so he did not.  
“NO!” He roared, his voice hoarse as he fought against the chains ripping his already raw skin. He barely felt the pain they caused. The pain of his heart would not let him feel it.  
“You’re l-lying to me she c-cannot be g-gone!” He screamed, wrenching the chains forward in an attempt to break free, powered by his blind rage.  
“She is dead.” Sauron said flatly. Then a cunning idea crept into his mind.  
“Would you like to know how she died? She was killed, by a warrior who proclaimed “THIS WORLD IS NO PLACE FOR TRAITORS” before running her through with a sword. Would you like to know who this warrior was, dwarfing?”  
“No, Tauriel! No! It cannot be! Who was it? I will kill them. I WILL KILL THEM!” Kíli was screeching and wailing, thrashing around like he was insane. His mind was fracturing, there was nothing left to fight the lies.  
Sauron sniggered inwardly. This was going too well.   
“So you would like to know? I will tell you then. The warrior who killed the she-elf, who killed your love, was your uncle.” He said the words with a triumphant flourish.  
And Kíli’s mind shattered.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that was the first chapter. I will update as often as I can, or as often as school work will allow. But as I said before, this is my first piece of fan fiction, so I'd love to have comments and suggestions. Thanks for reading!


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